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Authors: Susan Sizemore
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herself.
She looked up. Her gaze went to the front door. Her ears absorbed where the sound came from.
Someone was trying to bang the door off its hinges.
For a moment she was frozen with terror. Driving need overcame it.
Thena ran across the dark room to fling the door open.
“James!”
There he stood, a tall, strong, virile male illuminated by continuous lightning. He was wet, muddy, his dark eyes blazing with fury.
“Your bloody camel bit me!” he shouted.
###
“She’s a llama.”
James moved to take Athena in his arms—solid, warm, wonderful woman! “Who gives a damn?” he asked, and brought his mouth hungrily down on hers.
She pulled him into the house, out of the rain, into heaven.
They landed on a couch.
About time I got my hands on you, woman!
Her hands were on him, unbuttoning and tugging at his soaking wet shirt. Her hands heated his skin. Her hands made him hard, and hungrier than he’d ever thought possible.
He hoped she didn’t like her blouse as he ripped it off her in one sharp tug. He wasn’t able to be gentle right now, not up to subtle arousal.
He couldn’t be gentle or subtle or make love slowly. His lips and tongue roamed urgently over her throat and breasts and down her belly. He savored her flesh, breathed in the scent of her arousal. But he didn’t taste her.
He fought off the urge though his fangs ached and throbbed and the wild part of him begged for blood. The rush of her blood roared in his ears; he drew the scent of it deep into his lungs. He tasted her all over, but only with his tongue and lips. She moaned and arched in pleasure. The energy of her growing arousal fed his senses. He needed all of her.
But he wouldn’t taste her blood.
Not tonight. Not without her knowing everything about him. Not without her wanting the tasting as much as he did. His offer. Her choice.
“Ethics are a bugger,” he muttered against the skin of her bare belly.
Then he rolled them from the sofa onto the floor.
###
“What?” Thena asked. She was aware James had said something, his lips on her belly, the sound muffled. The words touched her as tantalizing breath on her bare skin.
The next thing she knew she was on her back on the rug, James was on top of her, inside her, and she didn’t care about talking. Who needed words at a time like this?
She pulled his head down for a fierce, hungry kiss. Her teeth scraped his tongue in the process. A fiery metallic hint of blood added to the passion between them.
James went crazy, and Thena came along for the ride.
The storm outside continued to roar, but it was nothing to the storm they shared. Explosions of orgasms shook her, bright as the lightning, deep as the thunder.
When James stiffened and came with a banshee howl, she joined him with a scream of her own.
“You’re an amazing woman,” he told her, his breath coming in hard gasps, his forehead resting on her own. “Though you nearly deafened me at the end, darling.”
“Ha! I’m not the only one shouting to wake the dead.”
“No dead were disturbed by us, love. Not that I don’t take pride in your reactions.” His voice was smug, and even in the darkness she caught the flash of his grin.
“James Wilde—”
“Call me by my true name. We’re hardly strangers at the moment.”
“James Martin Strahan,” Thena said. And said it again because she loved the sound of it.
“Athena Sophia Blaise,” he said. He stood and gave her a hand up. “You have a bed somewhere in the house, don’t you, Athena Sophia Blaise?”
“This way,” she said, but he picked her up before she could lead him down the hall. He carried her, cradled in his arms like she weighed nothing. She rested her head on his chest, and thought that it was nice his lovely, strong, hard-muscled body was good for more than just showing off to the cameras.
When they reached her bedroom he put her down on the bed as if she was a fragile piece of glass.
“Work of art,” he said,
She looked up. Her gaze went to the front door. Her ears absorbed where the sound came from.
Someone was trying to bang the door off its hinges.
For a moment she was frozen with terror. Driving need overcame it.
Thena ran across the dark room to fling the door open.
“James!”
There he stood, a tall, strong, virile male illuminated by continuous lightning. He was wet, muddy, his dark eyes blazing with fury.
“Your bloody camel bit me!” he shouted.
###
“She’s a llama.”
James moved to take Athena in his arms—solid, warm, wonderful woman! “Who gives a damn?” he asked, and brought his mouth hungrily down on hers.
She pulled him into the house, out of the rain, into heaven.
They landed on a couch.
About time I got my hands on you, woman!
Her hands were on him, unbuttoning and tugging at his soaking wet shirt. Her hands heated his skin. Her hands made him hard, and hungrier than he’d ever thought possible.
He hoped she didn’t like her blouse as he ripped it off her in one sharp tug. He wasn’t able to be gentle right now, not up to subtle arousal.
He couldn’t be gentle or subtle or make love slowly. His lips and tongue roamed urgently over her throat and breasts and down her belly. He savored her flesh, breathed in the scent of her arousal. But he didn’t taste her.
He fought off the urge though his fangs ached and throbbed and the wild part of him begged for blood. The rush of her blood roared in his ears; he drew the scent of it deep into his lungs. He tasted her all over, but only with his tongue and lips. She moaned and arched in pleasure. The energy of her growing arousal fed his senses. He needed all of her.
But he wouldn’t taste her blood.
Not tonight. Not without her knowing everything about him. Not without her wanting the tasting as much as he did. His offer. Her choice.
“Ethics are a bugger,” he muttered against the skin of her bare belly.
Then he rolled them from the sofa onto the floor.
###
“What?” Thena asked. She was aware James had said something, his lips on her belly, the sound muffled. The words touched her as tantalizing breath on her bare skin.
The next thing she knew she was on her back on the rug, James was on top of her, inside her, and she didn’t care about talking. Who needed words at a time like this?
She pulled his head down for a fierce, hungry kiss. Her teeth scraped his tongue in the process. A fiery metallic hint of blood added to the passion between them.
James went crazy, and Thena came along for the ride.
The storm outside continued to roar, but it was nothing to the storm they shared. Explosions of orgasms shook her, bright as the lightning, deep as the thunder.
When James stiffened and came with a banshee howl, she joined him with a scream of her own.
“You’re an amazing woman,” he told her, his breath coming in hard gasps, his forehead resting on her own. “Though you nearly deafened me at the end, darling.”
“Ha! I’m not the only one shouting to wake the dead.”
“No dead were disturbed by us, love. Not that I don’t take pride in your reactions.” His voice was smug, and even in the darkness she caught the flash of his grin.
“James Wilde—”
“Call me by my true name. We’re hardly strangers at the moment.”
“James Martin Strahan,” Thena said. And said it again because she loved the sound of it.
“Athena Sophia Blaise,” he said. He stood and gave her a hand up. “You have a bed somewhere in the house, don’t you, Athena Sophia Blaise?”
“This way,” she said, but he picked her up before she could lead him down the hall. He carried her, cradled in his arms like she weighed nothing. She rested her head on his chest, and thought that it was nice his lovely, strong, hard-muscled body was good for more than just showing off to the cameras.
When they reached her bedroom he put her down on the bed as if she was a fragile piece of glass.
“Work of art,” he said,
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